


Confections

by OldEmeraldEye



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldEmeraldEye/pseuds/OldEmeraldEye
Summary: Feast or afternoon snack, food is a Hobbit’s language of love.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27
Collections: fan_flashworks





	Confections

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt jam.

Bilbo scrapes the knife against the surface of bread just so to get an even finish. Nothing like the heapings of jam he used to have in Bag End, but Erebor's stores are not yet supplied to the point where such excess is feasible. Still, jam is jam, and he intends to enjoy it now that he has it. Bilbo has been without descent eating for so long, he can’t help but indulge.

“-and of course the Hillbrooke’s apple preserve is always worth having at least a jar of, but it doesn’t quite count as jam, which I pointed out to Hilda when my blackberry won the prize –"

Bilbo pulls away from the finished piece with a practiced twist of his knife, and the excess is applied to another slice without a drop of waste.

Around the long kitchen table and by counters and in the door way, the rest of the Company settle back and relax to sound of their Hobbit nattering on about varieties of fruit. Dwalin perks up when his talk turns to what might be encouraged to grow on Erebor’s slopes, now that sprouting mosses have shown the Desolation’s abatement, but it is their Master Burglar that carries conversation onwards.

Bilbo does so want to put together a proper feast for the Company. Especially when they’re complimenting his purloined dinner (and prying after family recipes, in Dwalins’ case.)

Imagine! Thinking a simple gentlehobbit’s dinner – and a small pie set aside for a light first breakfast - merited being called a feast. No, that is a state of affairs he cannot continue to let stand.

But that is for the future, when he has the means to do it justice. In the meanwhile he cleans the last smattering of jam from his knife onto the edge of the crust and sets about enjoying his afternoon snack.


End file.
